


En Dwi Gast

by Roadstergal



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gapfillerpalooza, Gen, Illusions, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: A gapfiller for Thor:Ragnarok, between Loki getting kicked out of the Bifrost and Thor getting kicked out.  How did Loki get into the good graces of the Grandmaster?  I see him as playing Scheherazade.Many thanks to Kahvi for the beta.





	En Dwi Gast

“Is it dead?" 

The voice cut through the fog, lifting Loki back to wakefulness.  He kept his eyes closed, listening, feeling, not reacting to his return to consciousness.  This was all unfamiliar - the last he remembered, he was being stabbed with his own dirk and pushed out of the bifrost by a truly psychotic quim - and he could feel people above him.  Best to be circumspect, to play dead.  He slowed his heart and waited.

Something nudged his side.  “It’s not moving.” 

“Iss gots a hole in isss side,” hissed a third voice.  “Sss deadsss…”

“Then roll it for money,” said the first voice, exasperated.  “Get on with it.”

Enough of this.  They might search him, find nothing, and move on, but Loki was not in the mood to hope for the best. The best had been failing to show up for decades now.  He called up a glamour of an unsteady spaceship coming in for a crash landing, screeching in an ear-shattering cacophony of tearing metal and sputtering engines.  He let it come diving in towards their spot, then a burst of throttle catapulted it into the distance.

It was quiet, then.  No sound of the intruders.  He called up the illusion of a little tern to hop around and check the area.  Nothing.  The scavengers had run off.

From an utter disaster of a landing spot, he realized.  A literal trash pile of crashed ships, furniture, computers, weapons…   All around, flickering wormholes popped into and out of existence, dropping bits of metal or organic parts onto the massive heap.  It explained the hard, pokey nature of whatever he was lying on.

He eased himself to his feet, wiping off some of the mud that covered him.  He slathered some on Hela’s stab wound, murmuring a little spell to clean it, then looked around with his own eyes.  A city center was clearly visible in one direction; this trash pile must be on its outskirts.

Wherever he was, it was nowhere near Asgard.  And, he hoped, nowhere near Hela.

He used a glamor to let light pass through him, rendering himself effectively invisible.  This place was new, very new, and discretion was called for.  He noticed, as he walked, more roving scavengers.  Some in packs, some singly, all doing hack jobs of stripping cables and metal from the trash.  Interesting.  It hinted at the possibility of a barter economy - and possibly a corrupt one, to have such a large population 

Loki liked his odds.

* * *

 

The Grandmaster walked along the dusty road in his sandaled feet. He loved his walks; everyone was always so pleased to see him!  They cheered and bowed and waved signs telling him how magnificent he was.  Of course, it helped that Topaz sent out the guards beforehand to smooth the way, but it was still very sweet of them all to make the effort.

Grandmaster paused.  A creature stood in the road in the way of his walk, looking at him curiously.  Not bowing, not cheering.  A weedy, pale biped, filthy, hunched slightly to the side and leaking fluid like the gently injured gladiators did.

"Who are you?" Grandmaster asked.

The creature looked surprised for a moment, then smiled in a non-amused, creepy way that Grandmaster found delightful.

"Merely a visitor," it replied.

Topaz looked at Grandmaster, then looked in the direction he was looking. "What are you looking at?" she asked, bluntly. Well, of course she couldn't see. Poor girl.

"Hey, would you do a favor and" Grandmaster wiggled his fingers, "make yourself visible to all of my friends, here?  You know, it's just the nice thing to do."

The creature hesitated, then nodded. Its form shifted just slightly, and Topaz straightened with a sharp intake of breath, pointing the melt stick at him.

"Hey, hey!" Grandmaster said, pushing it away.  "It was just invisible, that's not a melting offense."

"You could see me."  The creature stepped closer, keeping a very keen eye on Topaz.  Good move.

"Well, of course I could, you were right there!" Grandmaster told it, irritably.

"Yes, that's... very true.  I suppose the surprise to me is that you weren't confused by my glamour."

"Oh, you mean that funny light thingy you were doing?  No, of course not, I’m the Grandmaster.  Doesn’t it know that?” he asked Topaz.

“You haven’t told it,” she replied.

“Well, tell it,” he told her, testily.

Topaz stepped forward, brandishing her stick.

“Just – tell him, no melting,” he added, waving a warning hand.  There would be time enough for melting, if it came to that.  “Yet.”

“He is the Grandmaster,” Topaz hissed, her face an inch from the creature’s.  It did not react.  Interesting.

“You don’t look very good for fighting,” the Grandmaster said, thoughtfully.  “You look like you were losing one when you got lost.”

“No, I try to avoid fighting whenever possible.  I think you do, too.”

Grandmaster laughed.  “Of course, I’m really <i>very</i> bad at it.  Why do things I’m bad at?  I much prefer to do things I’m good at.”

“Like glamour.” The creature looked around itself at the crowds, at the city.  Grandmaster noticed that its gaze lingered on the things that weren’t really there.  The more colorful troops, the extra stories with towers and pennants.  The little tricks of décor that Grandmaster delighted in.

“Do you mean the things that aren’t there?  Are you a connoisseur?”  Perhaps this creature would offer a moment’s diversion.

“I dabble,” it said airily.  With a wave of the hand it wasn't pressing to its side, a green and gold serpent appeared in the street before them.  Grandmaster had seen his share of illusionists, but this one was particularly good – each scale sharp and clear, the eyes moist and alert, lovely streams of red-and-yellow fire coming from its nostrils, trailing wispy bluish smoke.  Its sinuous movements were smooth, elegant, lifelike.

Grandmaster clapped his hands and laughed as it fizzled out.  “Now that’s pretty good.  Really,” he told Topaz, “I think this one would be a waste to throw into the ring.  It wouldn’t last a minute… but that was nice to look at.”

“I don’t trust it,” Topaz replied.

Grandmaster frowned at her.  “Trust?  Who said anything about trusting?  I’m not trusting it one bit.  Give it a disc.”

She flashed him a deliciously frosty look, and it made Grandmaster very happy to see her obey despite her disapproval.  She took out a disc and walked towards the creature.  It stepped back from her warily.

"Oh, it's just a little thing we do here," the Grandmaster assured him  "Purely decorative!  You'll love it."

"I have enough decoration," it replied, firmly.

"Well, we could just kill you."  Grandmaster shrugged.  He clicked his fingers, and all of the real troops displayed their weaponry.  It was a bristling sight.

The creature got the message, Grandmaster was pleased to note.  It was potentially an interesting plaything, and it would have been disappointing to have him shredded.  It hissed as Topaz stuck the disc low on the back of his neck.

"There we go.  So much better." Grandmaster patted it on the shoulder and swept past; it limped to catch up and keep pace with Grandmaster.  A frail thing, Grandmaster noted.  It looked like a strong fart would blow it over.

Still, it would be diverting for as long as it lived. “I’m having a party this afternoon.  You can help me with the décor.  Do you play chess?”

“Always,” the creature replied, its eyes glittering.


End file.
